I know that I must avoid by all means any contact with you. I know very well. Only in this moment I miss you so much. Once, many years ago, I would have written a living ...
But since it is over, to die is more appropriate.
I asked Michael if he was stupid or not write. He talked to you. And though I asked him what you said (and he, of course, told me), his answers I understand what you have told him.
Michele told me to write that it was no use. And it is. I know myself. There is no point.
only one of many oracles that I consulted this morning said, "do not listen to the advice of a friend."
And so I write.
I am writing to tell you that I miss. And I know that there will never be a return. You would not have jumped to fresh 15-year history, with all that's been our story for a while. Is it true that you needs time. But it is the time to detachment. Not if you look in your heart there is a small part that still beats for me.
I know that it is not the way I look. Your eyes communicate only penalty. And you do not like even more than physically. I do not see more as a woman. Just like a beaten dog that you loved me so much. And to whom did you become allergic and you are forced to leave.
I, however, I've used these days, almost two weeks, to find in me a love for you. A love useless. That hurts both.
What hurts you with guilt. It kills me with pain. A pain in my life that I had never tried. One thing excruciating. Physics. You
splits into four. Keeps you from thinking. Work.
There is nothing that interests me. I, who had a life full of interests are completely emptied.
Tonight will be the last in your home. Maybe that happens we will return. But never with you. Ever closer together.
My God how I miss you ...
pray to God that we did get back together. Lovers happy as we were not ever. But the hope is dead.
Now I pray to God to help me pull the plug
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